Very Old Stuff (pre-digital)

December 25, 1978

My sister’s friend gave me a book
full of blank paper
for Christmas 1978
There’s a green tree frog with suction cup fingers
hanging on to a vertical stick on the cover
Under the small letters “Write Your Own Book”
is the title
“Coping” in large yellow letters
beneath that in a non serif font, white letters, no caps
“notes to help me hang in there”
My sister’s friend said she couldn’t resist.

And for my first entry: I put down the sf/fantasy book I was reading and wrote:

Beryl Beaver set a wolf on fire
< Dragon Winter >
Burgundy is a wine too bitter
for anyone here this afternoon
And Glenn backed into my truck
yesterday-

My father walked all the way into the kitchen
to tell my mother that if
somebody didn’t take that record < Stephen Stills >
off the turntable he would smash it.
< I think the threatened smashing
would involve the turn table >
Um- I immediately visualized my hand
smashing very hard (as in Karate)
into his adams apple

He knew the record was mine
a Christmas present from my sister

Would he cower or roar
if he understood what sort of effect
his infantile behaviour
generally has
on me? Instant rage?
-sigh- That’s not a very nice
Christmas message
is it?

“Our good luck might be the next animal’s downfall-” Granny Badger

=====

December 26, 1978

in all caps:

All things are new
there is no past hostility
strong enough to own me
You are forgiven
who(m?)ever you are.

now put my book down
before I forget this
epiphany
and break your nosy neck.

=====

Next Page

12-26-78

Kathy K (a childhood friend)
invaded my dreams last night
we talked, I
don’t remember what we said
I think I
wanted to hug her
I remember
turning around with that
in mind
turning around near the edge
of a stage
music, not heard?-
inferred-
But Kathy, I-

remember her as an awkward thirteen year old
turning around, barefoot in the sand near the river
walking away from some idiot’s dirty joke, looking
like she thought there was something wrong with her
if she couldn’t take it-

in the moment, remembering, I realized
“there’s a little bit of you
in every woman I ever
wanted to hold-
and shelter from
the dirty jokes
that no one wants to laugh at.”

(Jim Wellington)

{ This was typewritten on a single sheet of yellowing typewriter paper I think it was one of Jim’s from our first couple attempts at having a writers’ workshop }

=====

Never know where to begin-

I thought I’d try to tidy up a bit
-for the exterminator?-
as we’re moving me
into this apartment

We never seem to get Anything done
when we’re together-

came across an
unfamiliar box
contents in a jumble
-all the time you’ve known me
there’s been some kind of crisis
looming very near
very dark
maybe it is the time of Man
maybe it is a season
for me to dance carefully
between disasters
and try
-not to get crushed

Maybe our lives are
portable messes
that we can sort through
or store as-is
and maybe
neatness doesn’t count at all
it’s how you live
and what you give
to each other
and the world
around you-

((( Feels like circa 1991 ? )))

((( I don’t know if this is one of the things Jim Wrote and typed and left with me or is it something I sat down and wrote after one of our first attempts at a writers’ workshop? )))
———djo———